


Snowed in

by chiara_scuro



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Christmas, Day 27: Snowstorm, Getting Together, M/M, POV Third Person Limited, Snowed In, bookshop au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28219311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiara_scuro/pseuds/chiara_scuro
Summary: Of course he’d heard about the blizzard. It’s the one thing everyone’s been talking about for the whole week. A snowstorm in England – ha, what’s next? Should we expect dragons next week?Baz thought the blizzard was nothing more than a meteorological error. Yes, even scientists make mistakes sometimes and yes, climate change definitely was a growing problem and Baz was well aware of what a polar vortex was, but still, a blizzard in England – that’s a whole load of bollocks. A whole load of bollocks that had divided the country in the same way the pronunciation of the word “scone” seems to do.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Kudos: 22
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2020





	Snowed in

**Author's Note:**

> Hello  
> This is probably going to be the last fic I do for this year's COC so here you go  
> It's also my first drabble in writing 3rd person POV, thank you to my beta [Aristocratic_Otter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aristocratic_Otter/pseuds/Aristocratic_Otter) for sorting out all my grammar mistakes

BAZ

“Hey, did you hear about the blizzard?” Baz heard his co-worker’s voice behind him. He rolled his eyes. He was here to earn some money and to pass time, not to make friends, certainly not with the likes of Simon Snow. The message hadn’t gotten through to Snow yet, because he'd been following Baz around like a puppy ever since Baz started working here three months ago.

Three months. Any other person would’ve figured it out by now – especially because Baz wasn’t exactly known for his friendliness – but Snow seemed to be incredibly thick when it came to getting a hint. 

Baz decided not to answer him. _That’s what you get for asking stupid questions_ , he thought. Of course he’d heard about the blizzard. It’s the one thing everyone’s been talking about for the whole week. A snowstorm in England – ha, what’s next? Should we expect dragons next week?

Baz thought the blizzard was nothing more than a meteorological error. Yes, even scientists make mistakes sometimes and yes, climate change definitely was a growing problem and Baz was well aware of what a polar vortex was, but still, a blizzard _in England_ – that’s a whole load of bollocks. A whole load of bollocks that had divided the country in the same way the pronunciation of the word “scone” seems to do. 

Not that Baz cared much about the blizzard, but he was certain it wasn’t going to happen, and he was usually right. Snow, however, was a firm believer in the weather forecast. Just yesterday, Baz had overheard him bonding with one of the customers over the amount of emergency food supplies they had bought. Bollocks.

The wretched blizzard was supposed to happen today, yet this morning, the weather had looked exactly how it always does on December mornings in England; grey, wet, cold and extremely boring. No sign of a blizzard anywhere.

If Baz cared enough about the situation, he’d have been gloating over his victory. However, he didn't care enough, so he wouldn’t gloat. He’d just shelve books and ignore his stupid co-worker.

His stupidly _fit_ co-worker. Which is precisely why Baz was ignoring him in the first place. The less time he spent looking at those freckles, the better. (He still spent a considerable amount of time looking at them, but he told himself that it was just a consolation prize.) (Besides being bloody fit, Snow was also painfully heterosexual.)

Snow didn’t seem to be done pestering him yet, though. “You know, you should go home early,” he said. “I know you live further away, so I can close up and you can get home before the blizzard hits.”

Baz rolled his eyes at the boy’s kindness. “The blizzard isn’t going to hit, Snow. I’ll stay here until the end of my shift,” he said, keeping his voice bored and impassive to let Snow know he is very much _not_ interested in the conversation. (He was interested in a conversation with Snow, but that was a road Baz wasn’t going to let himself go down. He already knew Snow was fit and funny and full of some sort of adorable stammering charm from the way he interacted with the customers. Baz didn’t need to experience it first hand.)

“Baz, don’t be idiotic,” Snow started. (Ha! Idiotic. He’s the one to talk.) “If you go now, you might still make it to your family for Christmas.”

“That sounds needlessly dramatic,” Baz said. It was the 23rd of December. The dusting of snow that was going to fall tonight (or “blizzard” as some people called it) would likely be cleared by Christmas, if not even Christmas Eve.

“I’m serious, Baz,” Snow remained persistent. “Ebb isn’t here, she doesn’t even have to know you’ve gone home early. And even if she did, she’d let you.”

“I’m staying until the end of my shift,” Baz said, shelving a book a little harder than needed. He was more than annoyed with the conversation. Besides, Simon bloody Snow didn’t have to know that Baz wasn’t yet sure of going home for Christmas this year.

“Suit yourself,” Snow finally gave up and swaggered off to the cash register. _I hope he changes the music_ , Baz thought. There were hardly any customers today, so the Christmas music playing in the bookshop seemed completely unnecessary. Baz had his ears full of it – especially the _All I want for Christmas is you_. All Baz wanted for Christmas was to never hear this song again. Of course, some wishes were entirely too unrealistic to be granted, he was aware of that, and Mariah Carey was just one of the demons that came with working in retail in December.

Snow, of course, didn’t change the music. He might be the only retail worker on the planet that actually tolerates Christmas music. _Not tolerates_ , Baz thought, _enjoys_. Bobbing his head, mouthing the lyrics, tapping his fingers along with the rhythm, the whole thing. Sometimes, he even sang along quietly when he had to shelve books. (Baz felt deeply concerned that he found this endearing.)

He was there now, tapping his fingers to _Jingle Bell Rock_ against the counter. That was the thing about Snow – he was never still, not even for a second. Between tapping his fingers, bouncing his leg or pulling at his curls, Simon Snow was always in motion, always jittering. In the beginning, Baz was annoyed by it (how could he have this much energy when Baz didn’t have _any_?), but now he’s grown to like it, like he’s grown to like most things about Snow. (To his great misfortune.) He noticed he actually rather missed Snow’s constant tapping and fidgeting on days they didn’t have shifts together.

He forced himself to tear his eyes away from Snow now and get back to shelving books. After all, they still had work to do before closing time. There might not be many customers today, but Baz had to re-shelve the whole new arrivals section for after the holidays and maybe begin to take down some of the Christmas displays.

Baz rather liked working here. It allowed him to take his mind off of things, and he just liked books. He liked being around them and he liked that this job allowed him to familiarize himself with all the new arrivals. In the past few months, he’d read so many great books that he never wouldn’t have stumbled across if it wasn’t for his job.

Snow seemed to have started tackling some of the Christmas displays, so Baz allowed himself to pick up a particularly appealing book from the shelf and started reading it. He usually only allowed himself to read one chapter before putting the book back in its place, but this particular book sucked him in. He was halfway through the third chapter when he heard Snow exclaim in surprise.

“It’s snowing! Look, Baz!”

Baz turned his head around and, sure enough, there were snowflakes falling outside the bookshop window. Not tiny snowflakes either, these were big, chunky snowflakes – the kind he always got excited over as a child. They shined golden under the streetlamp, and Baz let himself be filled with childhood joy for a moment, even if the snowfall would make it difficult for him to get home.

“The blizzard is here,” Snow announced solemnly.

“Please,” Baz scoffed. “If that’s a blizzard then I’m a vampire.”

Snow turned to him, a smile playing on his face. “I’m not sure you’re not,” he said, and the tone of his voice made Baz blush just the slightest bit. He quickly turned his attention back to the book he was reading.

“Shut up, Snow. And don’t go calling a few snowflakes a blizzard,” he mutters. Snow just huffed in response – it’s what he did best – and left Baz alone.

It started out with a few snowflakes, but by the time the end of their shift rolled around, the weather had truly developed into a proper snowstorm. It was only now that Baz started to care a bit more about the situation. After all, he still had to drive home, which would be extremely difficult in this weather. He silently curses himself for being so cocky as he pulled out his car keys. There were a few inches of snow on the car already, the headlights blinking through the snow build-up as he turned the car on.

“Woah, what are you doing?” Snow exclaimed next to him. “You can’t drive in this weather!”

Baz rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but that’s how people usually get home.”

“Absolutely not! It’s too dangerous!” Snow remained adamant.

“Listen, Snow, I appreciate you’re having a heroic moment right now, but I can’t exactly sleep on the street, can I? I need to get home.”

“You can sleep at mine,” Snow said, as if it was the most casual thing in the world. “I live ten minutes away. Leave your car here and if the weather improves tomorrow, you can go home then.”

Baz wasn’t sure how to react. On one hand, he would love that – and it was convenient. On the other, this was _Snow_. There was a healthy line of self-indulgence and plain idiocy, and spending the night at Snow’s flat seemed to cross it, even if Snow was the one who invited him.

But if the meteorologists were right, the snowstorm would only get worse as the night went on – and the driving conditions were really already quite bad. And to be fair, Baz didn’t want to go back to his flat, where he’d just sit and ponder about whether or not he dares to go visit his family for Christmas in two days’ time.

And it would just be one night. What’s the worst that could happen?

Baz sighed. “Alright fine. I’ll come to yours.”

During the short walk to Snow’s flat, Baz came to the conclusion that he absolutely despised blizzard weather. He was chilled to the bone, and a frankly absurd amount of snowfall settled itself on his trousers and hair, soaking them completely. His socks and jumper remain dry, courtesy of his buttoned coat and waterproof boots, but he was still so fucking cold. He no longer cares that he was going to Simon Snow’s flat – really, he’d walk into a goblin lair at this point, if it was dry and warm.

Snow lived on the 4th floor in a building with no lift. His front door was decorated with a holiday wreath and his doormat had cats on it. Did he have a cat? Baz realized he didn’t know. Really, the only thing he knew about Snow is that he was also a student at Watford university, he had an insatiable appetite and was an absolute disaster when it came to shelving books.

And to think, he was going to spend the night at Snow’s place.

He watched Snow unlock the door and then they were in his flat; a quaint two-bedroom thing, messy, but in a domestic kind of way. Most importantly; it was warm. Baz breathed a sigh of relief and began taking off his coat.

“Make yourself at home,” Snow said, untying his boots. “I live here with my best friend, but she’s gone home for Christmas. I hope she left us some food…”

And with that, Snow trailed off into the kitchen.

Baz was left standing there, wondering about what to do about his wet trousers and hair. Maybe Snow’s best friend had a hair dryer, so that he could at least dry the trousers. (He wasn’t going to take the hair dryer to his _hair_. It usually made it all poofy and Baz was well aware of the dangers of heat damage.)

Slowly, he followed Snow into the kitchen, which was merged with the living room. Baz noticed a sofa with what appeared to be a handmade quilt thrown over it. He realized this was probably where he’d sleep tonight.

The realisation hit him that he was in Simon Snow’s flat and was about to spend the night here. In a moment of panic, he wanted to turn around, go back to his car and drive home, even if he had to do it at a snail’s pace, but one look through the window told him that that scenario was simply unrealistic. The snowstorm had gotten worse, and the wet fabric of his trousers served as a reminder that he’d probably freeze before he got back to his car anyway.

It also brought him back to the problem of his clothes. He didn’t dare sit anywhere, not with his trousers like that, so he just stood awkwardly in the kitchen, watching Snow poke around the fridge. His hair was plastered to his head in wet curls and Baz wondered how Snow wasn’t bothered by it. (He also wanted to run his hand through those curls, but Baz made a point of ignoring that wish.)

“She did leave us food!” Snow announced triumphantly, straightening up and lifting up a Tupperware container, and then examining it. “Do you like quinoa?” he asked, turning around to catch a glimpse of Baz. “Oh shit, your hair!”

“What about it?” Baz snapped, his hand instinctively flying to his hair. It was wet, yes, but nothing seemed out of place.

“It’s all wet!”

“Yes, Snow, see, snowflakes are essentially just water and when they melt—”

“Oh, don’t be a smartarse,” Snow interrupted him. “Wait here.”

And with that, he dropped the quinoa dish on the counter and rushed down the corridor, disappearing behind one of the doors. Baz noticed he’d left the fridge door open and he sighed before closing it. That boy was a disaster. Baz had no idea why he was attracted to him.

Snow emerged a few minutes later, wearing a different set of clothes and holding out a pile for Baz too. “Figured you’d want to change,” he said, shoving the clothes into Baz’s hands. There was a towel on top too, presumably for his hair.

“Thank you,” Baz stammered, taken aback by this act of kindness. Taken aback by the fact that these were _Snow’s clothes_ in his hands, and he was about to put them on. This was a scenario right from his unrealistic daydreams. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Down the corridor to the right,” Snow said, turning his attention back to the fridge.

The bathroom was the same as the rest of the flat; small, cluttered but weirdly cosy. Baz peeled his trousers off and pulled on a pair of trackies Snow had put on his pile. They were slightly too short for him, and Baz felt generally self-conscious about wearing something as casual as trackies around other people (especially around the boy he fancied), but anything was better than half frozen and thawing trousers.

Snow had also brought him a sweatshirt and a pair of socks, but since Baz’s jumper was still dry, he left the sweatshirt folded on the laundry basket. He felt like a right tosser, wearing a posh jumper paired with trackies, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

He did layer the socks over his own though, just because his feet tended to get cold. The socks were ridiculous – light blue with a pattern of toucans – exactly the kind of adorable thing Snow would own.

He did what he could with the towel and his hair and by the time he emerged from the bathroom, Snow was in the kitchen, stirring something in the frying pan. It smelled delicious and Baz didn’t realize how hungry he was until his stomach growled at the sound of sizzling food.

“I hope you like stir-fry,” Snow said, flashing him a smile over his shoulder.

Baz loved stir-fry.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be more chapters, however I'm unfortunately super busy at the moment so I'll see when I can write them
> 
> [my tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vampire-named-gampire)


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